How can a retired savior be considered retired if he drops to 40,000?

"...I'm beginning to miss the days when we had to live on rye bran and husks. At least back then the only unruly things I had to deal with were harvesters." The man's dejected tone contrasted sharply with Alita's excited voice.

"Hey, stop talking nonsense and get down here!" the woman on the ground urged, shaking the basket. "It's too dark, I can't see you, but I know you must be lying on top of a trailer!"

But then, a man's voice appeared behind her like a ghost:

"Actually, I didn't." He even deliberately poked Alita's lower back.

Alita immediately screamed a little and instinctively jumped away from where she was. The basket in her hand slipped out of her hand due to panic and was thrown behind her. It would have hit the person behind Alita and then fell to the ground, and the food inside would have probably scattered - but before all this happened, a big hand had already steadily held up the basket that Alita needed two hands to hold steadily.

Jacob showed up in the darkness. Only the faint light coming through the hangar door barely outlined his tall and wide outline, and his overly strong body with some disproportion made him look extremely threatening. He had used this stealth technique of appearing and disappearing in the dark to scare many people, and it worked every time, but Alita giggled immediately after turning around and seeing him.

"...You shouldn't laugh like that." Jacob - or rather, Yago Sevitarion - sighed helplessly, "I'm just scaring you."

He said this very seriously, but Elita responded with the attitude of a child comforting a child who had failed in a prank: "Well, you did scare me, and I was so scared that I threw the basket out, and there was Old Hank's spice cakes in it."

This is indeed strong evidence. On this agricultural planet called Jestal by the locals, wasting food is a serious legal and moral condemnation. But strong evidence still cannot change the cruel reality: the Crow Prince, who once frightened his enemies, has fallen from grace. His martial arts skills are now useless and can only be used to scare the basket out of the little girl's hand.

But he found that this was not as difficult to accept as he had imagined.

"You should have turned on the light before you came in." Sevastata carried the basket that seemed so small and cute to him, and dragged Alita, who was inexplicably happy, towards the well-lit door with a bit of melancholy. "You are not like me, who can see clearly in places without light. If you keep walking around in the dark, sooner or later you will fall on the blade of the harvester because of this."

"But if I turn on the light first, I won't be able to find you. Once the light comes on, you will definitely hide away." Alita obviously didn't take his advice to heart, "Besides, you won't watch me fall on the blade."

Sevatar sneered: "Are you so sure? I am very ruthless. I can watch you fall on the blade, bleed dry, and then peel off your skin, carefully cut it, decorate it on the harvester, and write on it: 'Look, this is the result of not remembering to turn on the lights before entering the hangar!'"

He meant it. He could do it. No one should doubt the authenticity of the Night Lords' First Captain's threats, since they were easy for him to do--but Alita giggled again: "Jacob is telling unfunny horror jokes again!"

This reminded Sevatar of something Azak Ahriman once said: some ancient literary works would compare this clucking laughter to a hen, a kind of bird. He didn't remember the details, or he simply didn't hear it.

He had no interest in what a hen was, nor did he want to let Azak Ahriman's arrogant face, which was full of sour books, occupy his thoughts too much. So he kicked all these things out of his mind, and then gave up all the topics that could only humiliate him, and returned to reality:

"You're back earlier than I thought," he asked. "I thought you'd find a place to stay in the First City these days. Don't the people in charge of the selection care about this?"

Alita shrugged: "I wasn't chosen."

"I never thought of such a thing. They say don't look for those with 'blue-gray syndrome', but I thought they only said that because it's unsightly." They walked into the light, and Alita saw Sevatar's raised brows: "Our little Alita is the most beautiful girl in District 4. If she still can't be selected for the welcoming team, then the aesthetic taste of Governor Deville or the Imperial Tax Collector will be subject to some legitimate doubts."

The muscles that needed to be moved to make this expression pulled the scars on his face. The twisted marks combined with his rough skin and harsh appearance made him look even more ferocious. There was no doubt that recording his current expression and playing it back would stop a child from crying at night, but Alita still just smiled.

"It's not because of those things, it's because of this scar here." She gestured at the base of her left neck. "The uniform of the welcoming team is like this-" she said, while drawing a semicircle near her collarbone with her finger. "They said that if I wear a uniform, the scar will be exposed, so it's not possible."

Sevatar knew how the scar came about. No one knew it better than him, not even Alita herself.

The scar was from an engineering accident two years ago. The metal pieces that flew from the cylinder cut a deep wound on the lower part of Alita's neck. From Sevata's point of view, it was not fatal, but it was enough to scare her. The 15-year-old girl was completely stunned at that time. She just lay there crying. The corresponding medicine or spray was always out of stock in Jestal. In the end, Sevata borrowed the right needle and thread to help her sew up the wound after cleaning the wound. He finished all the work in two minutes. The stitches were fast and good, and the late doctors were amazed. After the wound healed, the stitches were almost invisible. It only left a straight and bright white mark on Alita's skin, instead of the more common ugly multi-legged worm crawling.

That was also the first time he realized that the skills inherited in the Eighth Legion could still be used in this way.

He once again threw these insignificant feelings out of his mind and continued, "You lost the election, but you don't look very depressed."

The girl suddenly came to her senses. "Because I met Technical Officer Hastings! He told us that he hopes we can bring back the news that he wants to expand the technical department and add a training school! The official announcement will be made after the celebration, but he thinks the sooner everyone knows about it, the better... Jacob, do you think I can be selected if I sign up?"

"I don't know everything." Sevita shrugged, "I can't say whether you can be selected if you sign up, but I know that you will definitely not be selected if you don't sign up."

"Wow, you're using nonsense to fool me again."

"This is indeed nonsense, but it is the right kind of nonsense. For you, instead of worrying about how things will develop in the future, it is better to do what you can do first."

"I'm asking this just to get some confidence! Jacob, you really don't understand other people's minds!"

"Hey...actually I understand, but I did it on purpose."

"You are so annoying!" Alita angrily reached out to the basket and took out a piece of cake from it, "Look, I will shut up your mouth that has no good words at all!"

She put the caramel-colored, wonderfully fragrant cake into Sevata's mouth. The latter knew that if he didn't give her some face, the girl would never give up, so he took the cake obediently, allowing the not-very-harmonious aroma of spices and round wheat to bombard his taste buds, and smiled and expressed his surrender with body language.

As they were talking, they had already left the building and arrived at the open space in front of the freight station. Old Hank and his friends used discarded parts and promethium to make a crooked oven, trying to find a way to mass-produce his spice cakes. They were concentrating on their own research, not paying any attention to Alita, who came late, and Jacob, who lived in seclusion. Through the smoke produced by the burning promethium and the evaporation of the cakes, one could easily see the vast fields that had been harvested, the huge machinery waiting to be stored, the brown-yellow land in the fields, and the huge golden haystacks on top.

The breeze brought the aroma of wheat and straw, and Alita shouted and prepared to join Old Hank's oven team. Sevata refused all invitations to him, carrying the forgotten basket and quietly watching them laugh at the edge of the crowd. This was a scene that was almost non-existent in his past memories, but in the nearly ten years of his self-exile in Jestal, it seemed more and more common.

Their harvests were getting better year by year, and the rations they received were getting more and more, and people were gradually able to have enough to eat. The Empire's tax ships had already appeared above the First City's skyport, but this year's bumper harvest even gave them enough surplus food to pay off the taxes owed in previous centuries. Jestal would no longer have punitive development restrictions, and after the new farming season there would be enough goods to trade with other worlds. The credit goes to Governor Deville, a truly good man. Everything on this planet was steadily improving, and people's faces were filled with happiness and hope.

The only thing that shouldn't belong to Jago Sevitarion is happiness and hope.

The Captain of the Night Lords knew that he could never escape his past. If he valued what was in front of him, he should not have stayed here in the first place.

His past would always catch up with him. And now, some kind of premonition told him that it was about to happen.

Haha, I didn’t expect that!

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 12 Every step is not in the expected routine

Thinking as a Nostraman, Jago Servitarion should flee now.

In fact, he should have done so. He escaped from the Dark Angels' battle barge while being escorted and transported, and landed on this planet. He knew very well that those paranoid cousins ​​in black paint would never give up, and he should have tried to sneak away after recovering from his wounds.

But he didn't. He stayed. He allowed himself to waste ten Terran years on this barren agricultural planet, even thinking that those who were chasing him had lost their luck in the turbulence of the warp, or missed his landing time, or gave up for some other reason.

He knew how the world worked, and he had tasted enough of the malice of probability in his past experiences. He was fully aware that the absurd assumption was nothing but his wishful thinking. In the past ten Terra years, he had persuaded himself to leave this planet more than once, but more than once, he gave up the idea actively or passively for various reasons.

Until now, fate has once again opened its bloody mouth to him.

As an agricultural planet with low productivity, Jestal has never had much nightlife. Even during the harvest festival that the whole world celebrated, the camp at the cargo terminal quickly became quiet after the stars sank below the horizon. Sevatar was finally able to think undisturbed in the quiet darkness.

Darkness comforts him, darkness is his territory. Not only because he is a Nostramo born in darkness, but also because this is the power given to him by his primarch through genes - whether his primarch himself is willing or not. And the Emperor's biological alchemy has given him a physiological structure that does not need sleep so much, so he always uses this extra dark time than ordinary people to think.

He wondered if he should escape.

The part of Sevatar that belonged to Nostramo urged him to do so, but other parts that he couldn't quite define loudly objected. His subtle premonition, which he probably inherited from his gene father, was never wrong, so Sevatar knew that if he started to move now, he would have a good chance of escaping the Ravenwing team chasing him.

If he chose to escape, he could certainly survive. But he knew better that his cousins, who were so nervous about the "secret", would never give up. They would dig deep into the planet, torture and interrogate everyone they thought was suspicious, and finally use explosive bombs, melta and even torpedoes to erase all traces of their presence, and continue to follow the clues left by Sevatar to carry out an endless pursuit.

He could survive, but what about those people who accepted him without any reservations, believed the illogical lies he made up, and lived with him for ten years?

Sevatar had never had any illusions about how smart the "civilians" on the agricultural planet were, and these people were even dumber than he expected. If he had ever had the slightest idea, everyone in District 4 would have been killed by this stupid kindness ten years ago.

But he didn't. Even now, ten years later, he found that he couldn't just leave these people there to die.

Yago Sevitarion, you have become weak too. He laughed at himself in the dark. Guess what, you are now looking back and forth in the same way as Shen.

He had thought about it for a long time. About his genetic father, about his cruel ruling philosophy and vague sporadic teachings, about everything he had experienced... about justice. Miraculously, all the countless thoughts he had thought about gathered together at this life-and-death node tonight, pointing to an answer for him:

Yago Sevitarion has no regard for honor, and never cares about being called a "coward." But this time, he will stay. He will face a battle to the death and his bloody fate.

He now had no weapons, no power armor, and even he himself was not in the best condition due to the long-term lack of several elements necessary for Astartes, but those dark angels had better not think that -

——The huge impact interrupted Sevatar's ambitions, knocking him off the roof of the cargo station and falling to the ground due to the gravity of the planet.

In the few seconds of free fall, Sevatar thought a lot: Who was the attacker? Why could he locate his current position so silently and accurately? Why was his prophetic power not triggered? Why did this attack happen so much earlier than he had anticipated?

He didn't get an answer, but as the best soldier in the Eighth Legion, his muscle memory had automatically started to work. In the state of weightlessness, he adjusted his posture in an instant, allowing him to stand up and fight again the moment he landed.

——But something huge hit his back hard. He was not injured, but his landing posture was ruined. Sevatar was forced to land on the ground in an ugly and ridiculous posture, almost feeling like he was beaten into a piece of Old Hank's spice cake: the thing that hit his back did not leave with the free fall or the shock of landing, but stayed in place, constantly pressing on him, making Sevatar feel that his ribs were screaming.

He wanted to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the pressure on him kept squeezing the air out of his three lungs. His throat was choked by pain and suffocation, and he could only barely make a few meaningless moans.

Then, a voice he had never thought of in ten years sounded in his ears:

"Long time no see, Sai." A ghost from the past, the Primarch of the Eighth Legion, the master and father of Yago Sevitarion, said with a joyful expression that was clearly malicious:

"No matter what you think, you have to come with me now."

-

"Have you asked him what he thinks?" In the main control room of Storm's Edge, Fujimaru Ritsuka, holding a cup of steaming mocha coffee, tilted her head and launched a mental attack on Conrad Curze with a disapproving look; behind her stood a golden-armored giant who was slightly shorter than Curze, like a backdrop; and Sevatar stood at the very edge, saying nothing, as obedient as a quail.

After all, the situation was stronger than the person, and based on his understanding of his genetic father, he was very sure that if he dared to say a word now, the Primarch of the Night Lords would roll him into a ball - literally.

Koz didn't say a word, but Ritsuka seemed to have understood something. She sighed, put the coffee back on the porcelain plate, and spoke very quickly: "Although I knew I shouldn't have unrealistic hopes for your interpersonal skills when I heard that you didn't even make it to the Temple of Time. But - after realizing that this was an obvious flaw, you didn't even change it?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with this." Curze answered confidently, "Sai is my captain of the first company. I certainly have the right to decide where he should go and what he should do."

"Indeed, Yago Sevitarion is your captain, your soldier, and your offspring." Ritsuka said this with a worried look on his face, "But first of all, he is a person, not an object that belongs to you and you can move around as you please. Even between superiors and subordinates who are subject to military orders, you must give him the most basic respect."

"I've discovered something very interesting." Curze wasn't going to respond directly. "You didn't show any... 'basic respect' when you treated the eighteen of my descendants you captured earlier."

"I beg you to face this problem with a correct attitude instead of trying to change the subject." Li Xiang picked up the coffee cup worriedly, "Even if you take a step back, you are an adult, Conrad, please be a little more mature."

Koz glanced at Ritsuka who was holding the cup to her lips, spent a microsecond trying to figure out how fast she was drinking, and deliberately spoke at an appropriate time: "Considering that you call yourself 'eternally seventeen years old' because your body will no longer grow with time, then according to the same logic, based on the age of my body, I am now six months old."

He watched with satisfaction as Ritsuka choked on his coffee and frantically coughed and fumbled for tissues to clean up the mess he made, while adding cheerfully, "To be specific, it's six months, seven days, twenty-three hours, fifteen minutes and forty-seven seconds in Terran standard time. I'm still young."

Sevatar felt his mind shut down.

Although meeting his gene father again was like an unreal dream, everything that happened afterwards, including but not limited to seeing a small boat that was not Imperial in style parked behind the cargo terminal without his knowledge, seeing the Imperial Guards, seeing his gene father being condemned and questioned by a mortal girl, etc., any one of these things, even if taken individually, had an impact on him that was comparable to orbital bombardment. The fact that his brain was not overloaded until now was a clear manifestation of the Astartes' physical toughness.

"You are speaking to a Primarch. I advise you to be careful with your words and actions."

"—Is this what you're using the Primarch's memory and wisdom for? Picking up some insignificant details to argue with me?"

"What else? Do we have any important breakthrough mission now?"

"Isn't it? We were trying to rebuild your army, and you screwed up beautifully in almost every part!"

"--You two, calm down. Please remember the purpose of our coming here." The golden-armored giant who had been acting as a background finally spoke and tried to control the situation before the main control room became a real mess, but obviously, this behavior was not very welcome to Koz.

"Shut up, Custodian," he said. "You have no business here."

"I am not an Imperial Guard." A flat statement without any emotion came from the golden helmet, "I have reiterated this -"

"—but when you look like a Custodian, wear equipment like a Custodian, talk like a Custodian, and act like a Custodian, you can't blame people for calling you a Custodian."

The golden giant wanted to make more arguments against Curze's twisted logic, but Ritsuka stopped him with a wave of his hand:

"Okay, Somni, he just wants to mess with everyone he can, don't let him do what he wants. And thank you, I calm down now."

Somni nodded, and returned to his background status without any entanglement, as if he had no emotional fluctuations at all. Ritsuka turned back to Curze: "Let's get back to the original topic. You accused me of having some double standards in treating Sevitarion and other Night Lords, and I admit that - but why not? Is he the same as those people who commit all kinds of crimes just because they like it?"

Fujimaru Ritsuka asked pointedly: "During the years that Yago Sevitarion served as the Night Lord - you must know this better than me, Conrad, I hope you can think carefully: every atrocity he committed, every trigger he pulled, every life he lost, how much of these actions were his own will? And how much was because of your request?"

This was a revelation. Conrad Coates froze in place, his face gloomy, but he didn't say a word. He did have something to say, but he also knew that those things could be easily refuted by Fujimaru Ritsuka.

"He loves you, Conrad. Your descendants all love you." Fujimaru Ritsuka sighed, "I think this is a very heavy thing, but I know you may not care... I don't expect you to choose to respond to this, but at least, respect this love and don't treat them as objects and toss them around as you please."

"...I don't think so." Coze said very reluctantly.

Li Xiang ignored him, just put away the cup and saucer in front of him, and walked out the door like a breeze: "This is a suggestion, the choice is yours."

"Fujimaru Ritsuka, you little annoying bastard!" Koz angrily turned his direction to follow her movements, "You can't just casually say 'the choice is mine' every time and then - where are you going?"

"Wash the dishes, change clothes, get ready, go out, go shopping." She didn't even turn her head, and said in a casual tone as if she was reporting her daily schedule, "Although we let the Storm Edge surface here for Sevitarion, you still remember that the reason we came to this planet is not just for him, right?"

After saying this, she left, leaving the three grown men in the silent control room.

The Guards never spoke up unless necessary. Somni still stood there blankly like a background board; Curze just stared fiercely at the girl's back as she disappeared into the narrow corridor, and it was unknown what he was thinking; Sevatar, who had slowly recovered from his nearly overloaded brainstorm, was probably the only one among them who gradually felt a little embarrassed, but before he decided to say something to break the awkwardness, his gene father had already spoken:

"...I don't understand." There was some rare consideration and confusion in Koz's voice. "Should I choose? What is the better choice? I can't see anything. Can I guarantee that my choice is correct?"

He slowly turned his gaze back to Sevatar. He seemed to see something, but also seemed to be simply thinking.

"Sai, what do you want to choose?" He seemed to be asking, or talking in his sleep, "Do you want to leave with us? Or choose to stay on this planet? If you choose the latter, follow her when she gets off the ship in a while. I won't bother you anymore."

He thought for a moment, then added: "This is not a threat or a test... This is just a simple choice. I don't know, but like she said, maybe I should try to respect your choice."

Sevatar's brain, which had just recovered, was overloaded again: the only thing that could barely control him from shouting things like "Who are you? What did you do to my genetic father?" was his tenacious and strong desire to survive.

And his will to survive is crumbling under such an impact.

I figured it out. Since I’ve chosen light novel as the category, there’s no need to make the title so serious!

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 13 Don’t take chapter titles so seriously

To Sevatar, Ritsuka Fujimaru, who is fully equipped, seems... a little confusing.

It’s not that he realized that there was a deviation in the two people’s understanding of the meaning of “fully equipped”, but in Sevatar’s opinion, her equipment did not look like combat-ready equipment.

Her overall outfit looked... very un-Imperial. Un-Imperial to the point that even with Sevata's knowledge, he couldn't even judge the possible functions of the equipment from its appearance. First of all, the defense seemed to be almost non-existent: the chest and abdomen parts that needed the most protection were only wrapped in black close-fitting reinforced fiber fabrics, and the arms also lacked armor. The neural bridge interface and the few external reinforced tendon structures were almost only covered with similar fabrics for aesthetic purposes. Almost only the legs and feet were covered with metal armor, but it was hard to say that it was heavy armor used for protective purposes. Sevata didn't know what the pair of leg armors were used for. He only inferred from the glimpse of Fujimaru Ritsuka himself lifting his feet when walking that there was a jet afterburner structure hidden underneath.

The overall design of the equipment is obviously based on giving up many functions including protection, and leaning towards the direction of extreme lightness. Another direct result of this design idea is that the structure of the finished product will be as simple as possible. This is not something that the oil men will allow to be on their casting table (opening a production line is another matter). But considering that this small boat called Storm Boundary is almost equally un-Imperial in Sevatar's opinion, maybe after 10,000 years, the mainstream technology of the Empire in war equipment will become this style? But it shouldn't be so that there is not even a Sky Eagle logo, right?

"This is the Otenaus-type spiritual exoskeleton." Fujimaru Ritsuka seemed to be able to read minds, and explained before Savita couldn't help but ask, "Let's call it a self-developed equipment by the Chaldea Bureau. The underlying technology used is different from what is commonly used by the Empire, so it is normal to look very different.”

She paused for a few seconds and added, "The Chaldean Bureau is a newly formed department under the Astronomical Office. Because it is so new, it has no reputation at all. Also, I am not a psychic, and I can't read minds. I can guess what you want to say in advance only because your expression is so easy to understand."

Sevatar touched his face in confusion: Did I make any expression?

"It's not very obvious, but it's there." Fujimaru Ritsuka said as if he had predicted the future, "You don't have to doubt yourself too much. I can only see it because I am very familiar with you."

Sevatar really wanted to know how she could be so "one-sidedly familiar" with him, but he didn't dare to think deeply about this issue.